


The Sick and the Hungry

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Series: Devildom Domesticity [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Basically a Sick Fic, Fluff, M/M, Sick Character, denying you're sick, out of spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: Michael is in firm denial that he's sick, and he'll be damned if he's forced to stay in bed and miss out on his turn for cooking duty.Beel isn't having any of that.
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Male Character(s), Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: Devildom Domesticity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840885
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	The Sick and the Hungry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmmAquamarine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmAquamarine/gifts).



> This is for an art trade with the wonderful EmmAquamarine, who asked for a sick fic with Beel and her OC Michael Conners. I loved writing for him, so much that I stayed up until one in the morning writing him because I was on a ROLL!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

It was bright and early at the House of Lamentation, and as Michael entered the dining room for breakfast, the brothers immediately noticed something was off. His eyes were half-lidded from drowsiness, his face was flushed, and he was swaying on his feet like he was constantly on the verge of passing out.

Mammon, ever-attentive to Michael’s state of well-being (despite him constantly insisting otherwise), was the first to notice the changes in him, and bolted up from his seat to stride over to where Michael was leaning heavily against the doorway.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, human?” he demanded, putting his hands on his hips as he glared up at the man in question. “You’re late to breakfast, Beel’s eaten almost everything by now! You’re lucky the Great Mammon did you a favor and saved you a plate!”

The entire time Mammon was talking, Michael simply gave him what looked like a greatly toned-down version of the usual glares he saved for the Avatar of Greed. “Mammon, I don’t have time for this right now,” he muttered.

Then, ignoring how Mammon sputtered incredulous protests where he stood, Michael brushed past him and trudged over to the dinner table and all but collapsed into his seat next to Beel, blinking a few times to keep himself awake. Suddenly, in one fluid motion, he lifted his arm to cover his mouth, turned his body away from the dinner table, and coughed violently into the crook of his elbow.

All of the brothers gave a start, with varying degrees of shock and disgust crossing their faces as Michael propped his elbow on the table’s surface and used it to rest his head in his hand.

“What was _that_?” Levi asked, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Who cares? Whatever it was, keep it away from me!” Asmo cried, leaning away from Michael in his seat as he lifted his hands in front of his face. “You’re going to ruin my complexion with those awful human germs!”

“Michael,” Beel said suddenly. It took a moment for the man in question to register Beel’s words, lifting his head to gaze blearily at the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Yeah? What is it?” he asked, blinking a few more times in another poor attempt to keep himself awake.

Then, as Michael was busy staring at Beel while his addled brain struggled to catch up with him, the demon pressed his forehead against his, his gaze boring into Michael’s with shocking intensity.

“You’re burning up,” he stated plainly. “You aren’t normally this hot, there’s something wrong with you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m _fine_ ,” he snapped, though its effect was diminished by the tiredness weighing down his words as he picked up his fork and began poking at his food.

“If you were, your skin wouldn’t be looking so _ghastly_ right now,” Asmo pointed out, grimacing slightly as he looked Michael up and down. He suddenly paused, and a wicked smile slowly crept across his face. “Actually, now that I think about it…given how flushed you are, maybe you’re simply feeling a little hot and bothered—”

“Wait, if he’s sick, does that mean he’s going to _die_?!” Mammon asked, a note of panic entering his voice before he quickly added, “Not that I care or anything! Humans are super resilient, aren’t they? He’ll be fine, so there’s no need to worry about him!”

“It’s most likely a human sickness,” Satan mused thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin as Michael suddenly sneezed into his elbow, wiping his nose on his sleeve as everyone except for Lucifer, Satan, and Beel looked on in barely-concealed disgust. “I’ll analyze his symptoms and figure out what he has, and then one of us can go to the human world to buy the appropriate medication.”

“In any case, Michael, it would be best for you to stay bedridden for the day,” Lucifer told him. “It’s likely you won’t infect anyone here, but for your sake, you should stay in bed until we manage to find the proper medication.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed sharply. He then began shoveling food into his mouth at almost the same rate Beel ate on a regular basis. Before any of them knew it, Michael’s plate was empty, and he slammed his fork down and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I’m going to class, and you can’t stop me,” he declared, looking Lucifer dead in the eye as he rose sharply from his seat, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness overtook him. He steeled himself and shook his head, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he repeated, though it felt more like he was telling that to himself than the brothers. “I’ll see you all in class.” Without sparing them another glance, he spun on his heel and exited the dining room, letting out a series of hacking coughs as he went.

It was silent for the next few moments. No one was quite sure how to react, until Lucifer decided to break the silence first and ask, “Given the sorry state Michael is in, I doubt he’ll be able to properly pay attention during his classes. I suggest one of you take notes for him so he can study them once he’s feeling better.”

“I’ll do it,” Beel volunteered almost immediately, before leaning over to gently shake Belphie awake, who’d remained asleep during the entire exchange.

“Wha—hey, wait a minute, why does _Beel_ get to take notes for Michael?” Mammon protested. “I can take his notes just fine, y’know!”

“Don’t you doodle all over your notes, Mammon?” Belphie asked, his voice thick with sleep as he let out a long, drawn-out yawn.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Satan replied dryly. “Besides, why are _you_ so insistent on being the one to take Michael’s notes?”

“I just don’t wanna see him fail and be expelled from RAD!” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, do _you_ guys wanna see Michael kicked out early?!”

“LMAO, Mammon’s being a tsundere again!” Levi laughed, only to stop and slide down in his chair when Lucifer shot him a withering glare.

“Satan, research what kind of illness Michael has,” Lucifer directed him. “I’ll inform the professors of your absence and take notes for you, as well. Once school ends, I’ll give you permission to travel to the human world so you can purchase the necessary medication.”

“Of course,” Satan said with a cool smile.

“The rest of you, get moving, or you’ll be late for class,” he instructed the remaining six brothers, who all gave vaguely affirmative replies as they parted ways to go to their respective classes. Only Beel lingered behind, with Belphie standing a few feet away as he waited for his twin with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Are you sure Michael will be okay?” Beel asked, his expression uncharacteristically somber as he held Lucifer’s gaze.

“Seeing as I didn’t entrust Mammon with anything important, I’m certain Michael will get better in a timely fashion,” Lucifer reassured him, a faint smile crossing his face. “Now go, before you end up late to class.”

Beel nodded. “Right. Thanks, Lucifer,” he said, returning his brother’s smile before turning away and jogging up to Belphie.

“You’re really worried about him,” he remarked as the two of them began walking to their first class.

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted. “I just wish he’d accept our help instead of saying he’s fine all the time.”

“I blame Mammon and Lucifer, they’re always so pushy,” Belphie muttered darkly, before looking up at Beel and gently bumping his shoulder against his arm. “But I think you’ll be able to get through to him. You’re better than them, after all.”

Beel nodded slightly, looking somewhat encouraged after listening to his brother’s reassurances. “I hope I can.”

Over the course of the day, Michael’s symptoms only seemed to grow worse. His coughing fits grew more frequent as he traveled between classes, and his sneezes constantly drew stares from anyone within earshot. Even Solomon and the angels began taking notice of Michael’s sorry state.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed instead of attending classes?” Luke asked, his eyes growing wide with concern as he, Simeon, and Solomon walked alongside Michael. All of their classes had finished for the day, so the four of them were keeping each other company until Michael had to return to the House of Lamentation, and Solomon and the angels had to return to Purgatory Hall.

“No, because I’m completely fine and I don’t get why everyone’s worried,” he replied curtly, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I’m not even sick!”

“Still, you never know who might take advantage of you after they see you in a state of such vulnerability,” Solomon pointed out, giving Michael one of his trademark cryptic smiles.

“Solomon, don’t say things like that!” Luke berated him, batting at the sorcerer’s arm as Simeon laughed and smiled reassuringly at Michael.

“No one’s going to do anything to you, but I _do_ think some bed rest would do you some good,” he suggested gently. “Being sick isn’t a pleasant experience from what I’ve seen.”

“I don’t _need_ bed rest because I’m not _sick_ ,” he snarled, before proceeding to enter another series of hacking coughs, with Luke and Simeon watching in concern while Solomon simply looked on in amusement.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he muttered as the four of them finally reached the intersection leading to their respective housing units. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Get better soon!” Luke called to him.

“I don’t need to get better because I’ve always been fine!” Michael called back, waving lazily as he disappeared around the corner.

The brothers were all gathered in the common room. Satan was already in the human world, tracking down and buying Michael would need for a swift recovery. The human in question, however, was nowhere to be found.

“I’m _starving_ ,” Beel groaned. “What are we having for dinner?”

“You’re _always_ hungry, Beel,” Asmo sighed, draping himself dramatically over the couch in the common room. “Speaking of which, whose turn is it to cook dinner tonight?”

The six brothers all fell silent—initially, because they were trying to remember whose turn it was, but their contemplative silence was quick to turn into one of horrified realization when they all remembered whose turn it was.

“…Where’s Michael now?” Lucifer asked, a note of sharpness entering his voice.

“How should _we_ know, it’s not like we’re keeping track of him every second of the day!” Mammon protested.

“That’s rich, coming from _you_ of all people,” Belphie retorted.

“Hey now, what are you trying to imply—”

“That doesn’t matter; we need to find Michael,” Beel cut him off.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucifer agreed. “Everyone split up and try to find him. Once you do, catch him and don’t let him escape.”

“Right,” Beel nodded, and with that, the brothers all exited the common room. Beel made a beeline for the kitchen, with Belphie hot on his heels; partly because he was hungry and wanted to get a quick snack before resuming his search, and partly because that seemed like the most obvious place Michael would go, given his love of cooking and the fact that it was his turn to make dinner.

As soon as Beel approached the kitchen, he turned the doorknob and pushed open the door as quietly as possible. And true to his instincts, Michael was standing in front of the countertop, chopping up some veggies on a cutting board. Thankfully, he hadn’t heard the door open, seeing as he didn’t even _glance_ up from his current task.

Beel turned to his brother and lifted his finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. Belphie nodded slightly, then silently stepped back from the doorway. Then, moving with a quietness that belied someone as large as Beel, he slowly crept up behind Michael, stopping just a few feet behind him. He waited until Michael set down the knife, and as soon as he did, Beel wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Wha—Beel, what are you doing?!” he asked incredulously, banging his fists against the demon’s well-toned back. “Let me go, I need to finish cooking dinner!”

“No you’re not,” he replied simply. “You’re sick, you shouldn’t be cooking, let alone going to school.”

“I’m not sick, I’m _fine_ ,” Michael snarled. “So let me _go_!”

Beel ignored Michael’s pleas and threats, simply continuing on his way and bearing the brunt of Michael’s blows until he finally reached the door to Michael’s bedroom. He opened the door and entered his room, kicking it shut behind him before walking over to the bed and tossing Michael onto it, watching for a moment as he bounced slightly on the mattress.

Michael quickly sat up, but let out another series of coughs right as he tried to scramble off the bed. While he was preoccupied, Beel had also climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him tightly against his body as he continued to struggle in his grasp.

“Sleep,” Beel commanded him softly, but with a clear note of firmness as Michael continued to wriggle in his arms.

“Damn it, Beel, you’re being an ass, let me go!” he yelled, which only caused Beel to tighten his arms around him.

“Belphie, a bit of help here?” he suddenly called, tightening his grip even more as Michael continued to thrash harder.

“Jeez, you don’t have to yell so loud,” Belphie muttered, walking over to Michael’s bed and resting his hand atop his forehead. As soon as he did, Michael’s writhing movements slowed, eventually stopping entirely as his eyes fell shut, cursing Beel’s name under his breath just before he finally fell asleep.

Beel sighed tiredly, pulling away from Michael and sliding off his bed. “Can you stay here and make sure he stays asleep?” he asked. “I’ll be back soon, I need to make something for him and ask Lucifer when Satan will be back with his medicine.”

“Hurry back,” Belphie yawned. “I wanna be able to take a nap after you get back.”

“I will,” he promised, giving his brother a small smile as he jogged out of the bedroom.

When Michael finally woke up, he still felt like shit. However, he felt slightly _less_ like shit than he had earlier that day.

He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes as he tried to gather his bearings. Suddenly, he saw Beel sitting in a chair next to his bed, and he gave a start, scrambling back on the mattress.

“Wha—Beel, what are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes wide as the events from earlier that day came flooding back to him.

“I brought you food,” he explained, gesturing towards Michael’s nightstand. Michael followed Beel’s line of sight, his gaze eventually falling upon a large silver tray, upon which sat a bowl of soup, a napkin and utensils, and oddly enough, medication that looked like it was from the human world.

Michael stared at the tray, his mouth slightly open. “But I thought…I was supposed to cook dinner tonight.”

“I cooked dinner,” he replied simply. “Lucifer’s letting me take over your days until you’re well enough to cook again.”

“But what about my classes—”

“I’m taking extra notes for you so you can study them in bed,” he said, before gesturing to the tray once more. “But that isn’t important right now. Satan came back with medication from the human world while you were asleep, and you can only take them after you eat something.”

“…What kind of soup is that?” Michael finally asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he craned his neck to get a look at the bowl’s contents.

“It’s Belphie’s favorite soup,” Beel replied with a small smile. “It has Quetzalcoatl brains in it, it’s one of his favorite foods.”

“…Oh,” he said, still looking noticeably dumbfounded as he scooted over on his bed so he could be closer to his nightstand, only for Beel to anticipate his movements and stand up from his chair to lift the tray himself, waiting for Michael to sit up before gently setting the tray down onto his lap.

“I’m staying here, by the way,” Beel informed him. “To make sure you finish your food and take your meds.”

“That seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?” Michael scoffed, picking up his spoon and dipping it into the bowl. “It’s not like I have anywhere to dump all of this stuff while you’re not looking.”

“Just making sure,” he insisted, sitting back down in the chair and making himself comfortable.

Michael grumbled something incoherent under his breath, lifting the spoon to his mouth to blow on it a few times, pausing just before he actually put it into his mouth.

“…Thanks,” he muttered, finally drinking the soup gathered in the spoon so he could avoid looking directly at Beel.

Beel simply smiled, crossing his legs so he could use his elbow to prop his chin up in his hand.

“No problem.”


End file.
